DISCLAIMER: Star Trek, Star Trek:Deep Space Nine and its characters are
copyright Paramount and no infringement is intended. The story, suchas it is, is copyright Karen Colohan 1998.

Author's notes: This story is set pre War arc.

Many thanks to Terrie Drummonds for her help in making this story better
than it started out.

DYING TO LOVE YOU

by Karen Colohan (copyright January 1998)

"And I find it kind of funnyI find it kind of sadThe dreams in which I'm dyingAre the best I've ever had." - from "Mad World" by Tears for Fears

"Computer, lights, forty percent!"

I can hear the edge of urgency in my own voice as I harshly bark out
the command. Of course, the station's computer is oblivious to my unease
as it obediently complies with the request, raising the level ofillumination in my room. Able to see now into the furthest corners of
my quarters I pushmyself up in bed, ignoring the disordered sheets
as they fall into atangled mess about my waist. I find myself blinking
rapidly as my eyesadjust to the sudden brightness. It is always unnerving
to be woken soabruptly and my chest rises and falls with my sharp,
ragged breathing. Still, you would think by now I would be accustomed to
having my restdisturbed by...

Was - someone here? I scan the small room, avidly searching forevidence of another's presence. My visual inspection reveals no trace
-surely I did not really believe it would be otherwise? I am quitealone... As always. That realisation allows me to slowly start
to relax and thegrowing calmness permits me to reflect on precisely
what it was thatwoke me...

Only another dream then - how foolish of me to believe, even fora moment, that it might be otherwise when - like all the dreams before
-it ended with my death... and yet here I am, manifestly alive!
Thenagain, perhaps the gods in their wisdom have chosen to punish
me for mysins thus. They condemn me to live out this exile, alone,
for alleternity, taunting me with dreams of peace. My, how cynical
you havebecome, dear Elim! But who is to say that you would not deserve
such afate?

Such foolishness! I find myself laughing out loud, the soundechoing, mocking me as it breaks the silence in this lonely room. Yes,such thoughts are definitely the product of an old, tired mind.Certainly it was simply a bad dream - probably the result of drinking
too much kanaar before retiring!

And yet it seems that I have been dreaming far too often oflate.
Each time with the same outcome as well. I wake, as I did tonight,shaking like a frightened child, at the very moment of my demise. It is
- unsettling to say the least. But for all that, would I have the dreamsstop? No, of course not - if I'm honest with myself I even welcome them!

Yes, it's true, because when I dream of dying, whatever thecause,
you are always there with me. You sit at my side, holding me,tending
me... and as you share those final moments with me you say the words I wish
I could hear from you in real life, my dear doctor. Youtell me how
much you need me and that you love me. You beg me not to go on and leave
you behind alone. Ah, what I would give to hear you speakthus outside
the realm of my dreams...

Is such a situation really what it would take for you to declareyourself, doctor? Are you afraid to say to a man who is very much alivewhat you might confide to one on the verge of death? Or, as seems morelikely to be true, is this all merely wishful thinking on my part? Toimagine that you could ever feel for me what I have long felt for you...Do you? Is it possible that somewhere, deep in your heart, you long as
Ido for our friendship to be more than it is?

Ah, those hours we have spent together over our meals. How Ihave
hoarded the memory of every one, jealously guarding them againstthe
possibilty of forgetfulness. And even more precious to me, therecollection of your hand clasping mine as I lay in the Infirmary withmy implant gone mad. Again, you believed I was dying and so took yourown life in your hands to confront Tain and find a means to save me.Your actions were those of more than a friend... Yet afterwards all wasas it had been before. When you touched me it was simply as a doctortending his patient, nothing more. I don't understand...

Are you afraid of the consequences of loving me, dear doctor? Doyou feel such a relationship would harm your career? I suppose there arethose narrow-minded enough to make that a valid concern. Or worse, do
youbelieve I would hurt you physically, seeking only my own
gratification? Ipray that you do not think that of me, for I would
never do such a thing,doctor. I would love you as you deserve to
be loved - with my whole bodyand my heart. And there has never been
another I could make that promiseto. How can I show you this
though? How can I discover if you couldever love me in return? What futile speculation...

A deep sigh escapes me and I glanceat the chronometer to see that
morning has crept up on me unawares. Withimpatient hands I untangle
myself from the wreck of my bed and hurry toshower and dress. At
this rate I'll never have the shop open on time! Imay now be in truth
just a plain and simple tailor, but I still havecertain standards
to maintain.

A soft touch, cool against fevered skin - Garak hovered on theedge
of consciousness, reluctant to give up the pleasant sensation.Once
he opened his eyes the dream would fade and be lost as all theprevious
ones had been. No, he would cling to the last vestiges of sleepfor
as long as possible, revelling in the fantasy of Julian Bashir'sslender
hand gently cradling his cheek; his fingertips lightly caressingan
eye ridge.

"Garak? Garak, are you awake?"

No. He was asleep. He wasn't ready to wake yet. Why was thatinsistent voice invading his dream? He was still so tired. The wearinesswas palpable - a cloying sensation that pervaded his limbs and left themfeeling so heavy. It almost felt as if he were drowning...

"Garak, please open your eyes. Can you hear me?"

What a foolish question! Of course he could hear and herecognised
the speaker now. In these dreams he always heard the doctor'sgentle
voice, its cultured tones adding an even greater poignancy to thewhispered words of love and regret...

"Damn! He's still not responding. Let's try another two c.c.s.Pass
me that hypospray please."

What? That wasn't the way it should be! Such prosaic matters hadnever intruded on these dreams before. They always began after all thedoctor's heroic efforts to find a cure had failed and there was nothingmore to do but wait for the inevitable and reflect on might-have-beens.They dealt with unspoken love and unfulfilled passion, not medicalmatters and ...

The cool sensation of a hypospray discharging its contents intohis
bloodstream finally pulled Garak out of the miasma which had foggedhis
brain. A moment later the soft whirring of a tricorder sounded closeby his ear and he blinked in confusion. Why were the lights so bright?He didn't remember having called them up at all. As his eyes slowly focused
Garak found himself in a waking dream. Hovering over him, witha medical
tricorder clutched in his hands and his face a study inconcern, was
Julian Bashir.

"Doctor?" Garak was startled to hear how weak and unsteady hisvoice
sounded. He glanced curiously at his surroundings. It appeared hewas
in the Infirmary, but how...?

"Garak, thank goodness! Welcome back," added Bashir, a relievedsmile spreading across his face. He turned to the nurse who had beenwaiting patiently at his side. "Thank you, Jeryn, I can handle thingsfrom here."

She nodded briskly and headed back out into the main sectionof
the Infirmary. Bashir turned back to cast a considering eye over hisstill obviously confused patient. There was a mute appeal in theCardassian's gaze as he looked up at the doctor.

"Do you remember anything at all about the last three days?"Bashir
asked softly.

Garak frowned in concentration. The last thing he recalled wasopening his shop. Surely that had been this morning though... Hestruggled to remember - had Bashir said three days? Did that mean hehad been in the Infirmary that long? The Cardassian did not want tobelieve that there was such a large gap in his memories. However,eventually, frustrated by his inability to recall anything further Garakshook his head.

"Doctor, I have absolutely no recollection of how I came to behere
in the Infirmary. Perhaps you would care to enlighten me." Thetailor
did his best to sound like his normal, brisk self. He did notwant
to reveal to Bashir just how much the apparent loss of memorytroubled
him. The parallels with his recent dreams also disconcertedhim. Had
they been a warning of sorts, signalling his impending illness?

"Hm, if you really can't remember anything beyond going to yourshop
then I suppose I must begin at the beginning." Bashir gave Garak aslight, reassuring smile. He sensed that the Cardassian was not takingthe news of the extent of his illness as well as he appeared to be. Thedoctor knew how much Garak hated not being in control of a situation.
Sohe could imagine how unnerving it must be for him to discover he
had nomemory at all of three entire days.

"Well," Bashir began, "I got a call here in the Infirmary fromone
of your customers. She was most distressed. Apparently you'd beenconducting a fitting quite normally when you suddenly collapsed on thefloor of the dressing room and lost consciousness. We brought you hereand I began running a whole series of tests. Unfortunately, nothing inthe database explained the results I was getting. You remainedunconscious and began running an incredibly high temperature. A humanwould never have survived such a fever, but it seems Cardassians aremade of sterner stuff. Anyway, I was able to manage the fever, but Istill couldn't find a match anywhere for the pathogens in yoursystem..."

"Nevertheless, it appears you were able to work one of yourmiracles, doctor, and find a cure in the end," interrupted Garak. He flashed a disarmingly bright smile at the human. To haveBashir
at his bedside, but speaking only of medical matters was too muchof
a torment for the Cardassian in his weakened state. He might not beable
to recall the days of his illness, but the dreams which hadpreceded
it kept coming back to haunt him vividly. If only the doctorwould
reach out, take his hand...

"Actually," admitted Bashir slowly, "it's not really me, butZiyal
you have to thank for your cure. She came to visit you andrecognised
the symptoms. Apparently it was the adult variant of one ofthe Cardassian
childhood diseases. There were no details on it at allin the old
medical records I had, but Ziyal was able to tell me whichdrugs are
usually used on Cardassia to treat the condition. I cross-matched them with
the nearest human equivalents and then it was just acase of finding
the correct dosage."

"Ah, so 'all's well that ends well' then, as your humanexpression
goes," observed Garak with false cheerfulness. "I must besure to
thank Ziyal next time I lunch with her. Now, doctor," he added,"I'm
sure you must have other patients far more deserving of yourattention
than I."

Unaccountably Garak's heart had begun to beat faster. Was hedreaming again? The look in Bashir's eyes was... Garak almost
cried out in shock as the doctor reached down andtook one of the
tailor's broad, grey-skinned hands between his own.Bashir stared
at their intertwined fingers for a long moment, notspeaking. Garak
dared not make a sound for fear of breaking the spell.When the doctor's
gaze finally locked with his own again the Cardassiancould no longer
be in any doubt of what he saw in the depths of thosevelvet pools.
Doubtless a similar expression was reflected in his ownclear blue
eyes.

"I thought I was going to lose you!" Bashir's words werequietly,
but passionately spoken. "Garak, do you have the faintest ideahow
that made me feel? How worried I was?"

Garak allowed the affection he felt for Bashir to shine fromhis
eyes and warm the tone of his voice as he replied, invitingly. "Why
don't you tell me, my dear doctor..."